


The Joy in Waiting

by TheMarvelousMadMadamMim



Series: Finding Joy (Hackle Summer Trope Challenge 2.0) [4]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Gwen Bat being snarky, Hackle Summer Trope Challenge, Mutual Pining, Week Four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 17:10:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20246371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim/pseuds/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim
Summary: It's just one of those days when things never go according to plan. The Council continues its scrutiny of Cackle's new admissions process, and Hecate and Ada find themselves without a single moment alone.Hackle Summer Trope Challenge 2019. Week Four: Mutual Pining.Story 4/6.





	The Joy in Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Romula Rinewater appears in the previous story, The Joy of Friendship, which, if you haven't read yet, you absolutely should turn around and read first.

Ada was practically purring as she shifted, smiling sleepily as she hummed a morning greeting. She was lying on her front, face turned to look up at her wife, who was stretched out on her side, fingertips lazily tracing patterns up and down Ada’s spine.

Hecate offered a small smile, warm and gentle, but her eyes stayed focused on Ada’s back, as if she could actually see the little loops and whorls she was creating, fingertips sometimes pushing just a little deeper, relishing the soft sleepy warmth of her wife’s bare skin. Ada’s eyes slowly closed again as she focused on Hecate’s touch, the heat radiating against her skin from the closeness of Hecate’s body, the slow, steady pull of Hecate’s breathing lulling her into a feeling of absolute safety.

They’d stayed up late the night before. Hecate had told her everything about the council meeting, about the Great Wizard’s intimations to Hecate, when he’d taken her to his private chambers for a conversation—a conversation in which he basically offered Hecate the Academy on a silver platter, if she helped prove that Ada Cackle was no longer competent to run it.

_He’s always been daft_, Hecate had sniffed, arching a brow. _You’d think, after all the times I have defended you—to him, no less—that he’d at least realize there’s a sense of loyalty between us_.

Still, they’d both been grateful for the daftness. It gave them the warning they needed, gave them time to plan—which was exactly what they’d spent the majority of the night doing, before finally falling into bed in complete exhaustion. Hecate’s last request had been that they sleep naked—a rare indulgence they usually only could do during getaways and half-term holidays, as one could never be certain that a child wouldn’t knock upon the door or a colleague summon them with little warning for some mishap or another. It had been a comfort, simply curling up together and letting their bare bodies fully touch—and in the morning, it had been a nice sight to wake up to.

Hecate leaned in, placing a small kiss on the tip of Ada’s nose. Ada hummed in approval, her left hand reaching out to trill against Hecate’s thigh. Hecate scooted closer, letting more of their bodies touch as she continued her lazy tracing over Ada’s skin.

Ada’s smile deepened as she realized her wife’s intent. They had time, they had all morning, if they chose—for now, she’d keep the moment light, would simply enjoy touching each other without real intent or purpose. For now, they’d simply be. Things would devolve (they always did), but the path was more meandering than usual. It was lazy and decadent and perfect for the summer heat, which was already seeping through the castle, blanketing everything in a heavy warm slowness.

Granted, there were never going to be grand theatrics this morning, as Hecate was recovering from a muscle strain—a memento from their recent trip to the Outer Hebrides that Ada did so love to tease her about (_tell me again, how exactly did you pull that muscle in your thigh?_) because Hecate would roll her eyes and huff a longsuffering sigh, though the corner of her mouth would curl, ever so slightly (_you know exactly how I pulled that muscle, and it was worth it, absolutely worth it_). Still, time was a luxury they rarely had, and Ada was grateful for the times when they could indulge.

Hecate was grinning again, syrupy and self-satisfied like the cat who’d got the cream. Her fingertip dragged up to Ada’s shoulders, nail lightly tracing a pattern as she murmured, “You got more freckles, from the beach.”

Ada inwardly rolled her eyes at her wife’s obsession with her freckles—most of her life, she’d hated them, hated how ten minutes in the sun would produce a dozen more, hated how her skin didn’t look smooth and creamy-perfect like the photos in magazines. Now she loved them because of the way they made Hecate smile. And she loved Hecate for loving them.

Hecate leaned in again to kiss the spot in question.

“You’re ridiculous,” Ada announced, though her tone was far too love-laced to be effective in any measure.

Hecate laughed, a silent gust of breath against Ada’s skin. She didn’t deny the accusation. Instead, she merely sat up, gently getting Ada to roll over so that she was on her back again. She stayed upright, leaning on her left hand as her right hand ghosted over Ada’s chest, eyes scanning for any new freckles.

Ada’s cheeks were beginning to twinge from smiling so deeply. Her hand, which had been displaced by their change in positions, slipped back up to rest on the curve of Hecate’s waist, thumb lightly rubbing circles against the skin.

Hecate’s gaze flicked up to meet Ada’s. Her hand stilled its slow scrawl as she simply looked, the little crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes crinkling in quiet delight. Ada felt like a figurine inside a snowglobe, happily wrapped up in this bubble of a moment, not sure she could think of anything else beyond her wife’s eyes and the happiness expanding in her chest.

A spell rippled against her skin, odd and out of place.

Hecate felt it too, because she stiffened slightly, glancing at the bedroom door with a squint of confusion.

The spell echoed again. Ada realized it was a permission spell, but not for their private chambers—someone was at the front gate of the academy, seeking entrance.

“We could tell them we’re closed,” Hecate suggested, not at all helpfully.

Ada chuckled at the absurdity, sitting up as well. “I don’t think that will work, love.”

“Can’t know if you never try,” Hecate was moving forward, despite her reluctance. She slid off the bed and dressed with a snap of her fingers. Ada was standing beside her, fully dressed as well in a blink.

Hecate cast one last regretful glance back at the bed, sheets still warm and mussed.

“Later,” Ada promised, trying not to smile too broadly at how transparent her wife’s desires could be. With a sigh of agreement, Hecate raised her hand and transferred them both to the gate.

* * *

The pleased look on Romula Rinewater’s face implied that she’d thoroughly planned on taking them by surprise.

“Miss Rinewater,” Ada spoke first, the shock still evident in her tone. With a slight dip, she raised her hand in the customary greeting, “Well met.”

“Well met, mesdames.” The woman didn’t even bother with the proper form. Hecate felt a prickle of irritation—she was like a child, despite the fact that she couldn’t be more than a decade younger than Hecate. A child who had finally been given reign over her adult betters, and was behaving _exactly_ as one would expect a petulant brat in the first blush of power to behave.

“Is there a reason you’re standing on our doorstep like an unwanted stray?” Hecate pulled herself up to her full height, arms crossed, fingers flexed out dramatically. Ada cleared her throat gently, and Hecate studiously ignored the small warning—mainly because it knocked Romula down a peg, as evidenced by her blanche and hard blink.

“You will begin sending out letters for potential first years this week, will you not?” Romula focused her attention on Hecate, and that small act only set the deputy’s blood boiling.

“As per _Headmistress_ Cackle’s instructions,” Hecate tilted her head towards the blonde.

Romula took the hint. This time, she directed her words to Ada, “While the Council is most delighted to see witches brought back into the fold, we are equally anxious as to the method behind such a feat. As such, the Council has decided that I shall oversee the selection process. From the very beginning.”

Ada didn’t have to look up to know the exact face her wife was making—shock, offense, and a dash of helpless confusion. One eyebrow raised, mouth curled into a half-sneer at one corner, eyes wide. A look generally only reserved for students.

“Very well,” Ada spoke up quickly, before her wife could snark out a response. With a wave of her hands, she dropped the school’s protection spell, allowing Romula to enter the gates. “Miss Hardbroom and Miss Bat have been overseeing the most extensive compilation of witching family trees we could collect—we have more and more records arriving every week. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to walk you through the process.”

There was a warning in her tone, directed at Hecate: _Play nicely, dear. She can hurt us, just as easily as she can help us._

Given the slight duck of her deputy’s head, Ada assumed the message was received and understood.

“Of course,” Hecate gestured towards the academy. “We haven’t begun for the day, but I can show you what we’ve done, so far.”

Romula gave a nod of assent, looking somewhat pleased that Miss Hardbroom’s tone had become remarkably more genial (it was still stiff, but at least it wasn’t glacial anymore).

As they walked along, Ada glanced up at Hecate, who merely widened her eyes in response. Ada gave a reassuring smile. She looked at Hecate’s hand, still clenched in a fist. It relaxed, even if only slightly. She tried not to think of exactly where those expressive fingers should be, right now, but her skin still tingled and whined at the lack of attention all the same.

* * *

By the time Miss Bat arrived, Hecate had already given Romula Rinewater a full tour of the records room, which was practically bursting with crates of old records—marriage licenses, birth records, death records, family trees, and even a few onion-skin letters containing references to children born outside of the available records, distant cousins and the like. Romula’s saving grace was that she seemed genuinely interested in the process, and was impressed that only two witches were managing the collection (though Hecate was quick to point out that while only two _managed_ the collection, various additional staff members helped sift through the records whenever they could).

“Who the hell is this?” Miss Bat demanded, not rudely but certainly not kindly.

“Romula Rinewater, member of the Magic Council,” the woman introduced herself. “You must be the incomparable Miss Bat. Our Great Wizard thinks rather highly of you.”

“Can’t imagine he thinks much at all,” Miss Bat shot back easily. “But I do admire your attempts at flattery, dear.”

She breezed into the room, giving Hecate a small pat on the arm. Obviously, given the taut set of the younger witch’s shoulders, it had already been a trying day and it wasn’t even nine o’clock in the morning. “I’m assuming Miss Rinewater is here to oversee our valiant efforts?”

Hecate tamped down a quick smile. Gwen was using her coy tone, which meant she was already fully apprised of the situation, despite her “surprise” at seeing Romula just a few moments earlier. Hecate was certain that Ada had called together a few members of staff, to let them in the loop. Gwen turned her back to Romula and shot a quick wink to Hecate, and the deputy headmistress knew for certain.

Well, that was a relief. Gwen Bat, while at times infuriating and a bit unpredictable, was quite a fortunate ally to have when it came to a good intrigue.

Case in-point: Miss Bat turned back with an easy air, nonchalantly adding, “Miss Cackle wanted to see you, Miss Hardbroom. Something about a delivery of herbs for the potions lab?”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Hecate ducked her head, silently taking her leave. As she transferred away, she heard Gwen’s voice again, launching into a jab at the Council’s efficiency, not-so-well disguised as a compliment. Not that she imagined Gwen was actually trying to disguise it anyways.

When she appeared in the headmistress’ office, she was smirking.

“What’s that look about?” Ada perked up, definitely interested in anything that made her wife chuckle.

“Miss Bat,” Hecate didn’t really need to elaborate. Ada merely arched her brows and smiled as well. Hecate moved closer to Ada’s desk, “What’s wrong?”

Obviously, Hecate knew that there wasn’t a delivery scheduled today, and while Ada wanted to chide her for assuming something was wrong, she also had a point.

“Nothing,” Ada admitted simply, reaching out and finding her hand immediately met by Hecate’s. “I just…feel like we left things rather unfinished this morning.”

Hecate hummed in amused agreement. She glanced down, letting her thumb rub over the ridges of Ada's knuckles.

“It made me miss you.” There would have been a time that confessing such a thing would leave Ada feeling foolish, needy, too much. Now she knew that most of the time, those emotions were understood and equally felt by her partner.

Hecate squeezed her hand. Her voice was soft as she spoke, “I know.”

The younger witch didn’t lean in to kiss her wife, or offer any other physical support. Sometimes she did this to tease. Sometimes she did this because if she gave into the slightest physical contact, she would be helpless to stop from pushing for more. Given the light in her dark eyes, Ada suspected today it was the latter.

“Soon,” Hecate promised. With a slightly more formal air, she added, “I can’t imagine Miss Rinewater will stay past lunch. You know how the Council is—they simply want to be able to tick things off a box, to limit their liability.”

“Then perhaps we can take a lunch break of our own,” Ada suggested. Her wife’s sharp smile in response was agreement enough.

“Now,” Hecate stepped back, easily slipping into her Miss Hardbroom persona. “I suppose I should go save our valiant councilwoman from being completely decimated by the formidable Miss Bat.”

“By all means,” Ada gestured to the door, though she knew full well that her wife wouldn’t use it. As expected, Hecate Hardbroom merely transferred away, lips curled into a smile that echoed her promise of _soon_.

Ada gave a small little sigh and went back to her paperwork.

* * *

Romula Rinewater did stay past lunch. She stayed all afternoon. She sat in on afternoon tea with Hecate and Ada, which meant they couldn’t even look at each other without wearing masks of feigned indifference. By dinnertime, Romula was still there, happily installed at the table on Ada’s left side, which unfortunately put her next to Miss Bat, who was less than enthused by the arrangement, and Miss Rinewater’s presence in general. Hecate wasn’t sure how much longer she could prevent Miss Bat from attempting to murder the woman—it was a bit of a miracle she’d been able to contain the older witch this long.

Not that Romula had seemed to notice Gwen’s unhappiness. She’d been fascinated with the records, and eventually had begun trawling through them herself—after extensive and outright exhaustive questioning, of course. Hecate had found that Romula wasn’t nearly as annoying, when she was genuinely interested in a subject (something that had been quite an issue, when Hecate had been her tutor), and being able to explain a complicated and detail-oriented process was a bit calming for Hecate as well.

She’d tried not to remember going over the same process with Ada, late one night. Ada standing at the long table covered in scrolls and old books, listening intently as Hecate sidled up behind her. Hecate pressing further into her wife’s body as she leaned forward to point to a scroll or pick up a piece of paper to punctuate her point. The explanation had unraveled into a completely different activity, unsurprisingly, but then again, Ada was a very tactile learner and Hecate could adapt her teaching techniques quite well, with the right incentives.

She pushed those thoughts aside again as she sat next to Ada at the dinner table, pretending to care as Romula droned on about some new Council matter. Hecate contented herself with knowing that soon, Romula would be on her way and she’d have Ada swept into the nearest corner, eagerly making up for lost time.

“If it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition, of course,” Romula’s voice interrupted Hecate’s thoughts. More aptly, Ada’s sudden stiffness and the sharp shift in her body alerted Hecate that something important was being said.

Hecate blinked and looked up, bewildered.

Ada did not look particularly pleased—her smile was warm and welcoming, but it did not reach her eyes. “Of course, Miss Rinewater. We always keep spare rooms for visiting lecturers and the like. We can have them ready for you in the snap of a finger. It won’t be any bother at all.”

Gwen Bat muttered something that sounded an awfully lot like _Speak for yourself_. Hecate seconded that sentiment.

Dinner dragged on, and finally, the table dispersed. Hecate merely nodded when Ada wished her a pleasant rest before showing Miss Rinewater to her rooms. Then she walked to her own chambers, though it was all for show—were anyone asked when they’d last seen Miss Hardbroom, they could all honestly say that she’d been entering her own room, quite some distance away from the quarters allocated to the headmistress.

Morgana was stretched across her bed, blinking sleepily at the sound of the door opening and offering a small chirp that sounded both affectionate and annoyed at her human familiar’s interruption to her nap. Hecate scooped the cat into her arms, peppered her head with annoyingly loud kisses, and set her back onto the bed before changing into her nightclothes and transferring away to her proper bedroom.

Ada joined her not long after that, closing the heavy wooden door and slumping against it with a weary sigh. While Hecate could appreciate her wife’s exhaustion, she also appreciated how that particular angle made her neck look particularly inviting.

“Come here,” she could barely push the words out of her throat, suddenly too tight with longing. She slid across the bed, closer to Ada, who was moving towards her as well. Before she could say anything more, Ada’s mouth was crashing into hers, Ada’s hands slipping further into Hecate’s hair and holding her steady, just tightly enough to be felt. Hecate’s thighs were trembling, her lungs completely devoid of air as her hands returned the ferocity, clutching at Ada’s hips and pulling her closer.

“That was a bit like the early days,” Ada whispered, once they finally parted for air.

Hecate hummed in agreement, mind still buzzing, lips feeling swollen from Ada’s teeth. In the beginning, it had been torture, trying to school their glances, trying to keep their hands to themselves until they were certain they were alone and safe. Nowadays they at least had moments of respite, tea-times and morning meetings or afternoon walks where they could at least look at each other without hiding. It didn’t help that their morning had been interrupted far too early and they’d both spent the day physically on-edge.

“Normally I don’t mind a trip down memory lane,” Hecate’s tone was low, almost-amused as she peppered kisses down her wife’s neck. “But today….”

“Agreed.” Ada sighed.

Suddenly, Hecate jolted, her entire body rigid as her eyes glazed over. Ada felt a wave of concern wash over her.

“Something’s wrong. Morgana,” Hecate supplied. Her brows furrowed as she tried to discern the emotions that had suddenly flooded her system. Her face skewed into a heartbreakingly fearful expression, “She’s—frightened. And hurt.”

She closed her eyes, obviously casting a locating spell. Without another word, she vanished.

Ada stood at the edge of the bed, clutching her stomach in worry and glancing around for Pendle. If he were in immediate danger, she would already know—the bond between witch and familiar was strong, at points psychic. Still, he generally spent his time with Morgana, so if she were caught up in something, he wasn’t far behind.

Closing her eyes, Ada cast a locating spell. Pendle seemed peaceful, wherever he was. She transferred him to her. With a disoriented meow, Pendle appeared on the bed, curled up like a fluffy black donut. He raised his head, blinking slowly as he registered the change of locale. Obviously he’d been sleeping. Which seemed a little odd, given the hour. The staff’s familiars all followed basically the same schedule: sleeping throughout class times and waking in late afternoon to spend the rest of the evening with their witches, usually staying up long into the night to streak around the castle uninhibited. Pendle generally never napped this late.

He seemed…groggy. Ada sat on the edge of the bed, scooping her familiar into her arms and gently ruffling the fur around his neck. Pendle flopped his head against her shoulder, purring in a slow, sluggish cadence as his eyes slid closed again.

_Are you ill?_ She used her connection to him, tried to fill the question with images—as a cat, the complexities of human speech didn’t always translate, so she’d found that adding images made it easier for him to process. Particularly when he wasn’t in a fully awake state. She knew better than to ask if he’d been drugged (because how could he know?) or if he’d eaten or drank anything out of the ordinary (he’d hedge and lie sometimes, if he thought the truth would get him in trouble).

_Sleepy_, came the response. _No sick, no bad. Sleepy._

_Morgana_, she pictured her wife’s familiar, pushing the image into Pendle’s mind. She felt the immediate bubble of warmth ripple in her chest—Pendle adored his companion in chaos, and his reaction to hearing her name was rather close to what Ada felt when seeing Hecate, sometimes.

Pendle responded with his last visual of the other cat. She was curled into a little ball beside him. _Sleepy_.

Ada worried her bottom lip between her teeth, stroking Pendle’s fur as he fell back asleep. The minutes dragged on, and after what seemed like an eternity, Hecate reappeared, her arms cradling her familiar, her gaze still locked on that tiny feline face in concern. Morgana was a long-haired cat, and sometimes her fluffiness made Ada forget how petite she actually was. But right now, she seemed the size of a half-grown kit, far too small and fragile.

“Everything alright?” Ada rose to her feet again.

“I don’t know,” Hecate admitted, the worry evident in every syllable. She was swaying back and forth, as if rocking a baby back to sleep. Morgana’s little paw was on Hecate’s chest, claws lightly clinging to her robe, as if she were afraid that Hecate might leave her. “I found her wandering the corridors—she seemed disoriented. She was…terrified.”

Hecate shifted so that her right arm was still cradling the cat, freeing her left hand, with came up to delicately press a finger along the line of Morgana’s forehead, stroking the smooth spot between her ears. Ada knew that communicating complex ideas with familiars wasn’t easy, but it was less so when the animal was frightened or otherwise upset. She imagined that Hecate had tried to ask Morgana questions, but the cat had been too rattled to concentrate enough to properly answer.

“It’s alright,” Hecate cooed, keeping her voice low and calm. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Morgana’s fluffy black tail lazily curled and uncurled around Hecate’s bicep. She gave a small mewl, as if trying to tell Hecate something.

“I know, I know, it was very scary,” Hecate’s voice was softer, higher pitched. The voice she only used for their cats, which often made Ada smile, because it was the tone most people would use for babies. Brows quirking in confusion, she looked up at Ada, “She seems fine now. I’m not sure if it wasn’t anything more than a bad dream.”

“Pendle’s a bit out of sorts, too,” Ada admitted. “As far as I can tell, he’s fine, though.”

Hecate gave a low hum, obviously still concerned. She padded around to her side of the bed, gingerly pulling back the covers. “We’ll see how they are in the morning. They might have just gotten into a particularly potent batch of catnip again.”

Ada made a small noise of agreement, setting Pendle on the bed before magically changing into her nightgown. Hecate’s jaw tightened as she delicately laid Morgana next to the other black cat. She knew Ada had just pulled the first gown she’d thought of, but it was one of Hecate’s favorites, soft and practically sheer, showcasing all of her best assets. Ada was far too concerned with their familiars to tease her wife right now, but regardless of her intent, it had the same effect.

Morgana gave another pitiful mewl, paw stretching out to Hecate. All other thoughts quickly disappeared.

“I’m still here,” Hecate assured her, slipping into bed and curling around the little ball of fur. Ada joined on the other side, curling in her knees to further hem the two felines into a protective little bubble. Hecate’s head was ducked slightly, her focus still on her familiar, and Ada’s heart swelled at the simple beauty of her wife’s features, even when exhausted and devoid of makeup. She reached over, gently tracing the outline of that face she loved. Hecate quietly took her hand and placed a small, tender kiss on her knuckles. Reassuring Ada, as much as herself, that everything was alright.

Ada merely smiled, reaching out with her magic to turn out the lights. The moonlight still drifted in from the window, and after a moment of adjustment, her eyes could still see Hecate’s features, smiling softly back at her.

“What was that you said about our life?” Hecate’s voice was low, barely a whisper, but the droll tone still shone through. “Definitely a page turner?”

The blonde chuckled in agreement. “Never a dull moment, love.”

“Never,” Hecate echoed, pulling Morgana a little closer. Morgana gave a little sleepy chirp, burrowing further into her owner’s chest (and Ada might have been just a little envious). Hecate stifled a yawn and Ada followed close behind with one of her own.

The cats were both purring contentedly now, which was a relief to their witches. Ada knew they’d be right as rain in the morning, but Hecate would sleep lightly throughout the night, fussing over the slightest twitch and constantly checking on the them. It was endearing, her level of care.

“Tomorrow morning, Ada Cackle,” Hecate’s voice was already heavy with sleep. She didn’t have to finish her promise—the warm undercurrent in her words was innuendo enough. Her hand reached out to rest on Ada’s hip.

“Tomorrow morning,” Ada mimicked her movement, her thumb rubbing small circles against Hecate’s hip bone.

And while it certainly wasn’t the evening they’d planned, Ada found that it was still quite lovely, in its own little way.


End file.
